


we’ll meet again

by Mr_Clever



Series: Falsworth Redux [2]
Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Faubrey, Getting Back Together, Long Live, M/M, This site is lacking in Brian falsworth fics, im trying to fix that, one gay work at a time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 20:04:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13795281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Clever/pseuds/Mr_Clever
Summary: Brian Falsworth left a man behind on a cold day in 1953.He’s trying to find him again.





	we’ll meet again

For the first couple of months after his resurrection, Brian couldn’t sleep in his own bed. 

He camped out on the couch, in the study, even slept with Jacqueline sometimes, if it was bad enough. There was just something about the closet with all his old clothes, still intact, something about the vintage photos of his childhood on the dresser, something about the window, overlooking the garden. His room feels alien. It feels like he’s intruding on someone else’s life.

The man who owned that room doesn’t exist anymore.

Roger starts staying over more.

He was there a lot, in the beginning, when Brian first came back. However, when the dust settled, and he was convinced Brian wasn’t a hallucination and wouldn’t leave him again, he, quite understandably, left to take some time for himself.

It’s not everyday the love of your life comes back from the dead, after all.

Now, he’s over nearly every night. Time didn’t stop for him, like it did Brian, so he still has a flat to maintain, the day for errands and jobs and whatnots, but his nights are reserved for Brian.

And here's the thing, about Roger Aubrey: he's too good. Ever since they were kids and Roger would let him win in polo, sneak him chocolate when they should've been doing homework, fighting for the oppressed people of Germany when Brian couldn't, he's been the light in the darkness, Brian's moral compass, his North Star. Roger Aubrey is too good a person, too good a hero, and he doesn't even know it. Roger could go anywhere, do anything, but he sleeps with Brian on the living room futon, he kisses Brian’s forehead as soon as they wake up, he makes tea when Brian's nightmares get too much, and his smiles are so soft, so lovely, and they’re all for Brian when he wakes up in the morning and the sun is caressing his skin and making a halo around his hair.

Once, Brian asked if there was anyone else. /Had/ been anyone else. Once, Roger took his hand, kissed his knuckles, kissed his cheeks, and left for three days. The matter was dropped.

And, here's the thing, about Brian Falsworth: he is undeniably, unequivocally, and absolutely selfish.

There are a lot more better men for Roger, more whole men, without as many scars, as much baggage, but he comes home to Brian and it should feel like a victory but it feels like he’s personally tying the noose around Roger’s throat.

He knows, he /knows/, that this won’t end well. It can’t. The Brian Roger knew died in a car crash in 1953, and the Roger Brian knew may as well have died with him. They’re both new people, one where time stood still, and another where time went too fast. The crow’s feet at the corners of Roger’s eyes feel alien. The smooth skin on Brian’s abdomen where there used to be a fatal wound is equally unsettling. They look at each other and it’s like looking in a funhouse mirror, with enough similarities to be recognizable, but with enough changes to make one pause.

But Roger knows how to exist without Brian. Was forced to exist without him for nearly seventy years. He became a director of a secret agency, protected those that needed it, did what Brian never got to, and Brian-

Brian is still the scared young man with a too big heart and an even bigger puddle of blood pooled around him, clutching Roger’s hand and knowing he was going to die.

They do what they know how to. They adapt. They have to.

They start small, relearning the dips and grooves of the other’s body, becoming comfortable with each other again. Roger has new scars. Brian has old ones. There’s a thin line on Brian’s hip where a bullet knicked him in Germany that Roger traces with his tongue, and Roger has a smattering of blemishes on his shoulder blade, like a collection of stars Brian can cup with one hand. He says they came from someone throwing a pot of hot ashes at him. Brian laughs and believes him.

They make each other dinner, throwbacks to what they ate in the War and the microwaveable stuff they have now. They play footsie under the table, wash dishes side by side and Brian laughs at Roger’s grey hairs and Roger laughs when Brian gets carded at a bar.

It isn’t easy. Sometimes, they can’t stand to be around each other. Sometimes, Brian feels like an imposter in his own body, a chimera, and sometimes Roger leaves for hours on end to visit a gravestone on an empty plot.

They’re healing. It takes time. 

It’s months later when Brian realizes that Roger has become a permanent fixture at the Manor, that he’s memorized Roger’s favorite takeout order by heart, and that Roger hasn’t looked at him like he’ll disappear in weeks.

It hits him, then, how much he loves this man. How much Roger loves him. How happy and full his heart feels. 

When Roger asks him what he’s smiling about, he says nothing, and for the first time since he woke up, Brian goes to his own room, leading Roger by the hand, and falls asleep holding the love of his life.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Im gay


End file.
